Susurrus
by Soncnica
Summary: A soft murmuring or rustling sound; whisper.
1. Chapter 1

**I went out for a walk**** just to clear my head…and came home with this. Maybe I shouldn't go out for walks anymore. **

**I own nothing! And the word 'susurrus' popped up on my gmail…sweet! hehehe**

**Enjoy…**

**---**

_"Sammy!!!"_

-:-

The green leaves were moving right above his head, right in his line of vision, making him see white gold for just a second. A second before the light was covered with the leaves again. And there it was again; the light. And then leaves again. And then light again, and leaves, and light and leaves and light and leaves. It was making him sick… throwing up sick.

As soon as the blinding pain stopped eating away his lower back, he tried breathing. It wasn't going so well, but the leaves were still moving, letting the hot sun rays play on his cheeks. He could feel himself sweating; his sweat was tickling down his neck, down his chest, down his temples, down his back, down his legs…or was that blood?

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

The leaves, so many of them, millions and millions of them, were moving in the slight summer breeze that was drying the sweat on his forehead, on the tips of his hair, in the little dip above his upper lip.

They were letting golden sunlight to bleed all over him…he felt warm, felt tired, felt alone and felt lost. But the leaves were still moving above his eyes; not minding all the feelings being born in him, not even flinching when he opened his mouth for a silent call of his brother's name.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

He tried to adjust his heavy limbs into something more not as messy as it was now; there was silence when he tried so desperately to scream his lungs out because he couldn't. move. a. muscle.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

There were all these sounds surrounding him; birds chirping, animals making noises, he really didn't want to know about, tree trunks rubbing against each other, the leaves rustling, whispering, mumbling things, he didn't understand. Couldn't understand, because it seemed like they were having a private conversation between themselves and he was definitely not invited to their little party.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

The leaves were still moving, still hiding the warm orb that was the sun away from his eyes, letting only thin sunrays to touch him.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

He tried to lift up his hand, to shield his eyes from the painful heat that the sunrays bestowed upon his eyes, almost burning them out, but yeah…he couldn't. move. a. muscle. His arm felt heavy as lead; it felt dead to him.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

And then… there was a sound of breathing that halted all of his weak attempts of movement. His own breaths were getting to sound so loud in his ears, he wanted to stop breathing all together just for the booming sound to stop spreading through him. It hurt like hell to move, it hurt to think, it hurt to think about moving. And it hurt to simply breathe. He tried to whine, groan, whimper, scream, yell, kick out, push up, rotate, but he couldn't. move. a. muscle.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

He felt nothing, he heard nothing and he saw nothing; there was only pain, his breathing and the _thumpthumpthump_ of his heart wedged somewhere in his throat. He felt alone in the place he was at in the moment, and the leaves were still talking to one another, whispering sounds. He was really starting to get a feeling that they were laughing at him.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

He tried to put back the pieces of the puzzle that was the question 'what', but…his mind seemed to be leaking out of his ears…or was that blood?

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

The sunlight was cutting his eyes to pieces, it was too bright, but he knew that if he would close his eyes, he would never open them back up. Never in eternity. And he wanted to move his hand up towards his eyes again, stubborn as he was, but found himself unable to do so. He couldn't move. a. muscle. He felt the leaves under his palms, and he couldn't even grab hold of them. An ant or something equally small crawled up his fingers and up his hand and arm and he couldn't. move. a. muscle to get it off. He gasped.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

He could feel the warm earth beneath his back, he could feel his shirt sticking to his skin, he could feel the stickiness of the sweat that was running in rivers down his chest now…he was terrified and alone. And he doesn't do _alone_ that well. Never did.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

Where was his brother!? He knew he called for him when the pain started, but in the confusion of _whitehotblindingsonofabitchithurts _he must've lost him somewhere.

The exchange of light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves, was really starting to make him wanna vomit. And that would be a bad thing. Such a bad, bad, really bad thing, because lying on your back, not being able to move. a. muscle…bad, yeah bad.

Light, leaves, light, leaves, light, leaves.

And then he heard a rustling sound coming somewhere from his left. Or right.

-:-

_"Dean!!!"_

---

**The End?**** Idk, …I really don't know what to do with this…is this The End or is it TBC?! It feels like The End, but not really…ah…**_has a headache._**I put it online, because I really don't wanna stress over this one anymore.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, you wanted it…here it is…**

**Let me just say something: sometimes things aren't the way they seem to be! Remember that****, especially with my stories. **_giggles_

**Enjoy…**

**---**

First there were eyes in his line of vision; brown spilling into green. Then the almond shaped, squinting eyes formed a face; jaw set, lips making a thin white line. Then all that became Sam.

Dean gasped over the rustle of the leaves; they were still talking above his head, but he couldn't see them anymore. He could only see his brother's face and a small smirk that tugged up those thin, white lips.

Dean wanted to thank his brother for shielding his eyes from the sun and scream at him at the same time to stop smirking down at him, because…

_Man down__ here, Sam…_

…but was unable to do more then simply gasp out loud.

"You okay?"

Sam's voice was a soft whisper over the rustling leaves.

_Do I look like I'm okay to you?_

Dean wanted to move his hands to grab onto Sam and pull him down, but he couldn't. move. a. muscle.

He blinked and swallowed.

"Dean? Hey…'s okay, you're gonna be okay."

His brother's voice was still soft, soothing and it dripped into him through his ears. He could hear just fine, forming words was harder. He could feel his mouth opening, catching flies more likely, and Sam shifted his legs, crouching down.

"'s okay, man," Dean felt Sam place his hand on his forearm and squishing that bug, that was marching up and down his arm, 's okay."

_Yeah, Sammy…I don't think so. _

His brother's eyes were concerned, fear glistering in the brown orbs. It was fear, if he ever saw it; yeah Sam was scared and that was so not good. They were screwed.

_Sam tell me__, what's wrong with me, please…_

The words didn't come out like he wanted them to come out…there was just a hissing sound that interrupted his shallow breaths.

"'m gonna turn you on your side, get a look at your back, alright?"

Before he could protest, that _ohmygodithurtsgoaway_, he was already lying on his left side. He could feel some stones poking at his ribs and his brother's warm, sweaty hands touching him in places where he felt sticky and warm.

_Is it blood, Sammy!? Tell me…_

Dean gasped, the air sticking to his throat.

"Man, you're a mess. I'll need to clean this up later."

Dean huffed.

_Smart sentence there, geek boy.__ And what do you mean 'later'? 'm practically dying here and you're talking about 'later'?_

"Can you move?"

_Move!? You nuts? _

He tried to shake his head 'no', but then he remembered that he can't. move. a. muscle.

He whimpered a little, hoping that his brother would understand what he meant.

"Okay, okay. Dude, talk to me."

_I can't…_

When there was no answer from his brother, Sam tried again: "Man, come on. Take a deep breath and talk to me. You're just out of breath; there is nothing _seriously_ wrong with you."

Dean huffed and groaned at the word 'seriously' and tried to form a word, _sonofabitch_, but he just couldn't. There was something…something lying on his chest or something and he couldn't even blink anymore.

"Come on, just one deep breath and then you can ramble on about me taking off after that thing like that. You're just out of breath, come on."

_Out of breath?! __What's he on? I can't move, I can't talk, I can't even…okay, okay…yeah I can't breathe either. Oh God, oh crap…_

"Hey…come on…don't pass out on me now, dude," Dean felt Sam shake him by his shoulders, "listen to me, hey!!!"

The words were coming from behind him, words that sounded like orders, but spoken more softly then when his Dad gave them. His brother was a master in soft voice, a master of making him feel like he'll truly be okay.

"You've got thrown into a tree, you lost your breath, you're fine. Just scrapes and bruises, come on, man. Don't be a wuss."

_Who you calling a wuss…_

"Sm…"

"'m here. Right here. Now move," he felt strong arms being wrapped around his waist, "get up, get your footing," he did, he moved…okay Sam had a lot to do with it, but he moved, "good, good," he could feel the words being breathed behind his neck, "up."

And he was up, supported entirely by Sam and somewhere in the back of his mind there was this whisper of a doubt that Sam was lying about something. But that was a matter to discuss after he sleeps for a week and hopes that Sam will take care of whatever Sam was lying about.

**---**

**The E****nd **


End file.
